


Sanguine and Serendipity

by venbel



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Toby Smith | Tubbo, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sickfic, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, fdau but they are all biologically related for plot reasons, sbi fdau
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29976075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venbel/pseuds/venbel
Summary: This world is not governed by men, not really. From a distance powerful fair ones watch over the end, the nether, and the overworld. Their influence largely limited to the deals they make with mortals, so they have servants to do their bidding in exchange for magic. Humans call them witches, and humans want them dead.5 years ago their family fell apart, and recently have come back together in the most peculiar of situations. Techno and Phil are witch hunters wanted by the law, Tommy and Tubbo were witches, and Wilbur is a small-town doctor.Of course, their reunion is not a smooth one.(technologically it is set like the early 1800s/ late 1700s, and it’s like kinda minecrafty but I’m taking liberties)(heed the tags!!!)(Also characterization is mostly based on DSMP with some other stuff as reference <3)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Phil Watson & Technoblade - Relationship, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 11
Kudos: 158





	Sanguine and Serendipity

Blood was slick across his gloved hands. A dagger held just lightly enough in one. Too tight and he would lose efficiency, dexterity. Too loose and he'd be weaponless, of course not powerless-- but an ordeal such as this is cleaner with a blade. A hunt was a hunt, how he made the kill didn’t matter. Blood was spilled, it seeped into the soft ground and stained his clothes. 

“Blood for the Blood God,” the voices chanted all over each other, a buzz of noise he’s been forced to decipher. They rang like church bells. His laughter twisted into it, they chanted for him. Not for some dying fae. This power was his, he was the god, he wanted this. The cooling bodies beneath him consumed him, nothing else could begin to matter. Just him, the kill, and blood. The voices agreed, they all agreed. They were pleased, perfectly pleased. 

Horrible, horrible euphoria. 

Techno lost his balance and fumbled back. The world sat ever so slightly off-kilter, and electricity danced in the wind. The dagger slipped from his hand, and he steadied himself on a tree. A film of sweat, dirt, and viscera clung to everything. He feared the blood seeped into the leather of his gloves. He didn’t want blood on his hands, he wanted to run. Bile rose in his throat, and the voices rang. Was silence too much to ask for? 

He looked to the sky, his line of sight never crossing with the slaughter. A necessity. Moonlight leaked through a web of tree branches. The cemetery was larger than the small town it served would have warranted. High iron fences lined the perimeter and mausoleums turned it into more a village for the dead than a yard. The breeze pulled the awful smell of iron and filth up and through the new spring leaves and lace-like moss. Techno wanted to run his fingers through his hair, but he didn’t need to wash more grime out of it. He wanted to sink to the floor and sleep. 

The voices started to toll again. 

No, no, no… he did it. The witches were dead! The fair one was dead. They had to be satisfied, what more could they demand?

“Phil,” they said, the ringing became coherent, unified, and terrified. Techno hadn’t noticed he lost eyes on the man. He stumbled through the maze of graves, smearing the stone and trees sanguine. 

“PHIL!?” He hated how his voice wavered. They were listening, would they laugh? They spoke with syrupy concern and would drown him in it if they wanted. He called anyway. He found Phil slumped over against one of the great mausoleums in a far corner. It’s stone old, cracked, and caked with dirt. He looked so small, so empty huddled on the ground. 

Was he dead? 

“Phil?” Techno crouched, and hovered a hand over his back, “Phil?” 

Pale eyes meet with Techno’s, a slight moment to prove the man was alive. He removed his gloves and attempted to steady Phil. The blood oozing from in between Phil’s fingers came with an overpowering smell. Techno very much so had no desire to touch it. He also had no desire to see Phil die. The wound was somewhere about his stomach, and it was not a clean cut. Even with a passing glance in near darkness, he could tell that much. His hair stood on end and didn’t trust his limited first aid skills to handle something like that. 

“Can you stand?” A stupid question.

“I can hardly sit--” his laugh turned into a sputtering cough. Techno whipped the spittle away with a clean hand, and Phil smiled. ‘It’ll all be okay.’

It would clearly not be okay, they needed a doctor, or a surgeon, or a miracle worker at least 20 minutes ago. Techno pulled Phil’s arm over his shoulder and began to drag him back to town. 

Tall, stick-like, trees shot into the sky around them, a few dropped over the path, providing a patchy roof and only managing to make the path even darker. The path was narrow and steep and not meant to be traversed in the dead of night. What lamps that did line it, were not lit. The forest was alive with the night’s terrors, and having to stop to defend against them was not something Phil could afford. Running was also not much of an option. Techno was going as fast as he could, and that was not more than a snail’s pace. 

He could hear it all, the rattling of undead far in the distance, the river a quarter-mile west, animals hunting and hiding, his footsteps, his heartbeat, and the ringing that kept tempo. Everything other than one thing he wanted to hear— Phil breathing. 

The town was small, walled, and typical. It shone like day, gas lamps and high bonfires burned along the wall. It never really got dark in towns like this. After all the wall was not the first line of defense it was the light. And in its shadow, it was blinding. Still so late into the night of course the gates would be closed. 

“STATE YOUR BUSINESS!” A guard called down from the top of the wall with an arrow notched. The gold embellishments against her dark uniform shown like sunlight in the fire. Pink hair was tucked neatly away beneath a wide-brimmed hat. He couldn’t make out much of a face from this distance, but from her tone, she couldn’t have been pleased. 

“I NEED A DOCTOR!” His grip on Phil was slipping, and in the process of trying to readjust, the guard redirected a lamp at him. Blindingly bright, it stung. 

“What happened?”

He couldn’t tell her the truth.

“I need a doctor—“ he couldn’t lie either, “My father, he’s lost a lot of blood.” 

For a moment she remained unreadable, but moved the light away, directing it towards the treeline. He shot a look behind him. Was she expecting some sort of ambush?

The fire was returned to its former resting place, and she vanished. Maybe she had seen something. Bandits, witches, 3-foot tall spiders with the jaw strength to rip a horse limb from limb. Or maybe she recognized the man with pink hair and red eyes. 

Was she after reinforcements? A rifle? An inquisitor? Techno didn’t have time for a fight. Phil didn’t have time for a fight. He stumbled them closer to the gate, he needed to get it. The wall had a thick overhang, climbing to that point would be much of a problem, but getting over it would nigh impossible. Could he burn the gates down? Restlessness grew in him, he couldn’t lose him too, but what was there to do? Whose neck did he have to put a knife to save Phil? 

A small reinforced door cracked open. 

“Over here.” The guard beckoned them over, her eyes darted behind them, one last check for mobs and the like before she opened the door a touch more. She wore concern and a short sword. “Come on.”

He followed. 

Safely inside the town walls she locked the door behind them, and lead them through the thin, hilly streets. even to the point" bit and just say like "This bit of town was all built on top of each other, little bridges crossing over top the road connecting buildings.

“The doctor is kind of a strange one,” she glanced back and winced, “— and I don’t want to get your hopes up, but he’s good.”

“Are ya sure about that?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

On a particularly steep street, they stopped in front of a tall building. It was a thin thing, practically growing out of the town wall. The foundation seamlessly melded in with it and the rest of the building almost leaned on it. It looked as though a strong breeze might collapse the whole thing. One window was broken, and another was boarded up. Herbs and vegetables spilled from flower boxes and a shiny metal sign hung from an overhang. A caduceus. The place looked like it should have been abandoned long ago, but life continued in it anyhow. It looked like someone belonged in it. 

The guard banged on the door, and from inside something stirred. Techno stood from a distance, as whoever it was shuffled to the door and started undoing locks. He hadn’t quite noticed how quiet the town was before then. Whereas now each of the footsteps seemed to echo down through the neighborhood.

“Hey, Niki, what’s wrong, who's that?” 

It couldn’t be.

“They came to the—that’s not important” she paused” A man’s been stabbed.” Her voice sounded far more distant than it should have. The voices began to toll once more as the doctor came farther into the light. It was like looking into a fractured carnival house mirror, or his own reflection in a stream. The two of them even shared the same look of quiet recognition. Their dark eyes met, he could hardly believe that Wilbur ended up taller. 

“Wil—“

“Hurry up, this looks bad.” He pulled Techno inside bringing Phil along with him. He looked to Niki, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Have a good shift.” He spoke with a lilt of pleasantries. She nodded and returned to the maze of the city. Was this some sort of trick? All too late Techno had realized he didn’t know his way out of town, he didn’t pay much attention to the winding streets which overlapped and fed into each other like veins. And now with Phil holding onto life with a thread, he may have just brought them into a trap. The odds of finding a witch must be higher than finding one’s missing twin. 

Wilbur lit an oil lamp, casting the hall in a yellow glow, maps and shelves of books and jars lined the walls. He could barely stand up straight under the low ceilings. Wil moved swiftly down the hall, shadows growing longer and longer in his wake. 

“Let me have him,” he said, opening a small door. Techno hesitated. “I am a doctor.” 

“Oh sure you are, went to university after running off?”

“Techno.”

He exchanged their father for an oil lamp. 

“Wait in the parlor, everything’s gonna be alright.” Wil shut the door, and Techno stood alone. It smelt strange, like lighting and mint. This all had to be a trick. Finally, alone, exhaustion crept upon him. It was like a dream, or maybe a nightmare seeing as all the cuts, bruises, and sore muscles caught up with him. His head pounded and walls weren’t perpendicular to the floor. He sunk down, legs extended, and touching the other side of the corridor. This all had to be a trick, a taunt, a punishment. Wearing Wil’s face and voice. The flavor of magic lingered in the stale air. He couldn’t trust it. He had to, but he couldn’t. 

A creak came from the stairs behind him, it hadn’t even registered that Wil might not live alone. Who could it be, how would they react to seeing a bloody man sprawled out on their floor. He felt faint. 

“Wil, what’d you do to your hair?” It was Tommy- it had to be. Taller, older, and certainly an illusion. A cruel one at that. There was magic in the air.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is my first finished au fic for like anything, so I hope you like it!! You're probably here from Twitter but if not check me out @venbell_ I do art and animatics and stuff too and will have updates on this au too! 
> 
> Thank you, Spud (@conkopodwii on twt), the rest of GV!SBI, the Sleepyverse, and Boat (my school assigned brother) for reading this and helping me out with all of this!


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